phone sex ❥ luke hemmings

Introduction

LUKE
HEMMINGS
Introduction

✎ABOUT ME ; L. Hemmings.
Before we get started, ladies and gentleman, I would just like to say one thing.

I am not addicted to sex.

Contrary to popular belief, I'm a pretty sex-sober man. Ashton would probably laugh and tell me to shut the fuck up- that thirsty son of a bitch- but it's true.

I don't fuck a lot. I don't touch myself every single chance that I get. I even flick past the porn channels on the TV when I accidentally land on them at 2am every morning, giving Nicolette the Nymph on Babestation some time to cover herself up before I decide to tune out to static and an Arctic Monkeys album on vinyl.

Nah, I'm not sex crazed, believe me. I don't fret over fornication. I just like my music, and I just like my job.

And my job- let me tell you now- is far from every single sensible example I've just managed to give you up there.

My job requires a lot of talking, and a lot of moaning, and the occasional groan if I'm feeling it. Maybe even a grunt or two depending on who I'm talking to. Heavy breathing, god- the girls seem to love it.

The girls seem to love pizza a whole fucking lot too, hence why I also work at the Papa John's just outside of campus. What can I say? Cum doesn't always turn into cash. As well as a blowjob, I need a dayjob.

Also, no, before you ask, I'm not a chatty Italian asthmatic who likes to make efficient Tekken sound effects in real life. I just love money and I just love music; the pizza is a bonus. And making people cum, of course, but that's not really something I'd like to put on my resu

"What the hell do I even write?"

"I don't know. I feel like I'm in seventh grade again,"

"Wait, we aren't in seventh grade?" Michael Clifford fake gasps, a hand on his heart as his jaw slacks to the floor. I roll my eyes, swivelling my gaze back to the lined paper in front of me as our entire table erupts into a fit of giggles and amused snorts- all in honour of the newfound class clown and our personal, long-term best friend, "Yo, Fitzy,"

"Don't call me that," Ashley Fitzgerald mutters, her eyes in mid-roll as she scribbles an entire line out of her About Me section. A lock of electric pink hair falls into her face and as she brushes it away with a sigh, I manage to catch a glimpse of her paper; a few short lines of personality that describe the one person filled with more sarcastic enthusiasm than all of us combined.

✎ABOUT ME ; A. Fitzgerald.
Hola, bitches.

Here we go. Nice start, Ash.

My name's Ashley, short for Ashmazing.

...Right.

But my friend's call me Assley because this ass is GLORIOU

"Hey! These are meant to be private," she raises an eyebrow at me, a playful but stern look on her face as I let out a light chuckle.

"Sorry," I shrug, leaning back in my chair.

"It's crazy how blank your mind goes when somebody asks you to talk about yourself," another voice pipes up, and I turn my head to see that it's Chloe Marshall. Our 'pretty face' staple alongside yours truly- but I'm not one to brag. "Like, I've always loved myself. Always. Self love, y'know? Right. But this? It's making me question that,"